


never been so defenceless

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Idiots in Love, M/M, Misunderstandings, i blame twitter for the title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:54:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29309919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Patrick brings a girl to the annual Seabrook ICE BOWL. He intends to come out on top, but the odds were never in his favour.or It's all Patrick Sharp's fault.
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews, Patrick Kane/Other(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29
Collections: Anonymous





	never been so defenceless

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sad about Jonny and I've resigned to writing fics about their rookie/younger years when they were all youthful and flash. And everything was all about 1988 are the future of the Blackhawks, and everything 5 years from now was still about glory and winning and winning and winning. That’s not so much the case right now, and it makes me sad. This fic is completely self-indulgent so I CAN FEEL SOMETHING. I've been numbed with the thought of 1988 aging and retiring for so long. This hrpf pair will always be the most iconic.

"You're so gone for him, man," Sharpy says to him one day after practice, and Patrick stills because Sharpy is chuckling and saying it _like it's so ridiculous to believe._

When he started going out with Jonny, he's never really given much thought about what others would feel about it--drunk on anticipation and lost in his intention of just _loving_ Jonny. Spoil him or some shit. All that stuff that would bring out the sparkle in Jonny's eyes and that rare tight-lipped smile when things go too cheesy for his liking but somewhat, just the littlest bit, still endeared by it.

"Got any problem with that?" Patrick tries to sound stern, but Sharpy is older and so intimidating no matter how much he claims _''I'm your friend, Peekaboo."_ It makes him want to shrink and undo the blatant display of affection he's been doing for the past few weeks. Wishing he kept it a secret, even though Jonny doesnt deserve to be one.

Sharpy must've observed the obvious tension their conversation is brewing as he puts his hands up in mock surrender. "Relax," Sharpy humourlessly snickers, dropping the act of fixing his equipment and stands in front of Patrick's stall from which Pat is sitting. "Look," he sighs, "It's just, you guys aren't even official yet and who knows if you guys are even exclusive."

Sharpy continues, "Just want you to look out for your little heart, Peeks. Don't want you getting hurt."

Patrick's stomach sinks, he's not dating anyone else, but he doesn't know that about Jonny, and yes, he hasn't officially asked Jonny to be his boyfriend yet. But only because he wants to do it really special, maybe at the end of the season— a great gift if they win the Stanley Cup but a note of making the day extra special just in case they don't win it all the way. Patrick's sentimental enough to accept that Lord Stanley's Cup has nothing compared to Jonny. He doesn't really expect Jonny to feel the same— but maybe deep down, he does.

But maybe all this time, it's all just him. In his head. Patrick's a fun guy, and he's starting to worry if that's all he is to Jonny. Someone to make out with after a failed night-out trying to pick up girls. A convenient fuck. An easy lay.

Memories of Jonny's groans and moans fill his mind. How Jonny would say Patrick's the best fuck he ever had, and how that made Patrick feel accomplished just a few weeks ago. Nothing is those feelings now as he slumps in his stall. His eyes are starting to sting, and shame is the only thing he feels as he looks up at Sharpy's worried face.

Patrick hasn't had a problem being small in a while now, but right now under Sharpy's gaze, the realisation of his vulnerability, he feels so _minuscule._ So fucking insignificant that his feelings don't matter anymore. Jonny has no right to make him feel this way. Patrick shouldn't have been so unguarded with him, letting Jonny roam around his space and take away that confidence and self-esteem he took so long to build up.

"I—I should really go," Patrick stutters his way out, not giving a single fuck about his things in the locker room. The tears brimming his eyes aren't enough to blur out the wave that Jonny is giving him. _And the smile dropping off Jonny's fucking beautiful face when Patrick ignores him._

Jonny probably wants an _easy_ fuck today, probably wants it rough and hard like what he usually begs when it's going to be a day off once tomorrow comes. Patrick's done being Jonny's favourite plaything.

—

Patrick calls Tina, the last person he hooked up with before dating(or he thought so) Jonny, and invites him to tomorrow night's Seabrook ICE Bowl. If Jonny's fucking other people, then he can too. Two can play at this game, and Patrick is making sure he won’t lose at this fuckery match that Jonny started.

Tina gives him a hard time and reprimanded him for not calling her back after that not so fateful night in October. And Patrick would've felt bad if it wasn't for the fact that he never promised Tina anything. He took her home, pleasured each other, and that was it. Patrick wonders if Tina had felt the same way he's feeling now. If so, then Patrick is just as a huge of a dick as Jonny is and he's not having that. So he guarantees Tina a "good fucking time tomorrow" and just like that—he has a pretty date.

—

Tina is sweet when she kisses Patrick's cheek before taking his turn to bowl. Jonny's not here yet, but almost everyone is, and they're all giving Patrick the strangest of looks, especially Sharpy. Patrick opts to ignore them and fits his fingers in the holes, determined as shit. He guesses it won't hurt if he actually tries. Just as he's about to release the ball, he hears a commotion behind him. At first, he thinks it's the fans cheering for him, but as Patrick turns around to the noise, he sees his smiling captain hi-fiving the fans around him, stopping for some autographs. Jonny's wearing a stupid beanie, _or toque whatever_ , over his head. It makes him look soft, and ridiculous, too. Fuck, who is he kidding? Jonny has always looked good.

Jonny's gaze catches him, and that fucking bright face catches him off guard resulting in his grip weakening and effectively releasing the ball to fall right onto his shoe.

"Fuck!" Patrick can't help but yell in agony. The bowling shoes offered some protection, but the shit still hurts. He finds himself limping to the seats, a pair of hands immediately steadying his body. It's so familiar, and he knows it's Jonny, and Patrick wants to lean in and let him help, but then he remembers how much of an asshole Jonny is and shakes his hands off.

Everyone goes back to their business once Patrick assures them he's okay. Tina hot on her wheels, telling Patrick she'll find an ice-pack as she frantically goes her way to the bar. Jonny seats next to him, and the thing is—Patrik knows the look of concern in his face is genuine. He and Jonny are friends after all, no matter how much Patrick wants it to be more than that. Mixed with it though is puzzlement, Jonny's eyes follow Tina until she disappears from sight and looks at Patrick questioningly.

"Who is she?" Jonny asks, crouching down and grabbing Patrick's injured foot, using his lap to elevate it. Patrick feels like melting because of the sweet gesture. _Dammit, Jonny for being an overall good guy._ He wishes it was easier to clock him, but who truly has the heart to hurt this caring boy?

"My date," Patrick witnesses the moment Jonny's eyes widen in shock. He doesn't understand why. They're not exclusive after all. The gentle pats of Jonny's hands stop as he looks up at Patrick with bewilderment.

"Date?" Jonny breathes out, Patrick notices he's gripping Patrick's ankle now pretty tightly. Not enough to hurt, but the pressure is there, seems like the touch is transferring some of the tension in Jonny's body to Patrick's own—making him feel it, too. "Like, a fan service or something?"

Jonny looks hopeful and _fuck,_ Patrick can't understand why. He seems like someone who's bound to be disappointed if Patrick would say she's anything but.

"No."

Jonny's eyebrows furrow at that, opening his mouth, "I—I," he keeps stuttering, running out of words to respond.

"I'm dating her, future girlfriend—whatever," Patrick spells it out for him. Jonny goes pale—Jonny is never pale—and his mouth trembles right in front of Patrick's eyes. Jonny looks _hurt._ And Patrick wants to take it all back, that _no_ , Jonny's the only one. That she's nothing because it's the fucking truth.

"Here's an ice-pack," Tina breaks the silence between him and Jonny, and thrust an ice pack to his face. Patrick takes it from her and gives his thanks, proceeding to put it on his foot, right next to where Jonny's hand still lies.

Jonny removes his foot off his lap and begins to stand up, and _ever so gently_ rests Patrick's foot on the seat. "I'll leave you and your _girlfriend_ to it, then," Jonny's voice wavers at the 'girlfriend'. Patrick looks at his face, and his heart absolutely breaks at the sight of Jonny _falling apart_ in front of him.

No. This wasn't the plan. Jonny's supposed to be casual about it, maybe get a little bit jealous and possessive— _They're not exclusive, right? It's what Sharpy said_ —not this, with Jonny's eyes rimmed-red and shoulders hunched. Almost like he's shrunk somehow. It doesn't feel right.

 _And fuck_ —Jonny's wiping his eyes now, he's trying to be subtle about it, but there's nothing subtle about Jonny when it comes to Patrick. Jonny looks like a kicked puppy as he walks his way to where most of the team are. He's not even faking a smile, only nodding to the guys' "hellos" and "what's up, cap?"

—

Patrick doesnt notice how much time has passed, or where the fuck is Tina even anymore. He's lost her through millions of glances towards Jonny's direction every possible minute. His—Jonny's not having fun, it's so atypical and unnatural and fuck Patrick for doing this to Jonny. And fuck Jonny, too, for acting so innocent, like he's not the biggest asshole in the world, like he's the only one allowed to mess around. For assuming that Patrick wouldn't want to get back, and always kiss the ground he walks on.

"Peeks," Sharpy's voice surprises him, he sits next to Patrick, sporting the same expression Jonny had when asking about Tina. "So she's not just a friend that happens to be a girl?"

_There it is._

"No," Patrick trails, "I don't know."

He feels like hiding and asking Sharpy questions, a lot of them, right now. Of course, Tina's not just a friend. Sharpy should know that since he's the one who saw past Jonny's bluff and saved Patrick from the impending heartbreak.

"Why are you doing this to Jonny?" Sharpy asks. And at that, Patrick swears to God he has fallen deep, he's not even on earth anymore, he's sunk through something dark, silent and lonely and fucking sad. He shakes off the feeling, and he's back next to Sharpy, who he wants nothing more than to punch in the face.

"What do you fucking mean by that?!" Patrick hisses, because what the fuck—he's starting to get a feeling that the real asshole here is this fucking demon sitting next to him. "You said Jonny's not serious with me," he reminds Sharpy of their conversation in the lockers yesterday.

Sharpy, honest to God, looks scared. His horror-stricken face begins to shake at a rapid pace. "No, no no no no," Sharpy keeps repeating, "fuck! No, Peeks!" Sharpy grabs his hands and squeezes it, staring at him— _pleading, like he's so fucking sorry_ —"what I meant, is to give you a hint," Sharpy lets go of his hands and desperately clutches his shoulders, "for you to make it official and not wait around," he emphasises every word, and oh God _does Patrick get it._

"Fuck," Patrick can't do anything but breath out.

"Fuck indeed," Sharpy agrees with him. Fucking asshole, Sharpy is a fucking asshole. No, Sharpy's not an asshole. Patrick is just dumb, so so so fucking stupid. "I'm sorry if you've misinterpreted what I said. I was trying to be all veteran and mysterious and a know-it-all about love or some shit."

Jonny's already crying, and Patrick feels like crying, too, so he can't really have Sharpy also bawling his eyes out surrounded by fans and teammates. So he pulls out the, "You want me to think you're the coolest big brother ever?" tease on Sharpy, and that makes Sharpy smile and nod. Patrick chuckles because _what the fuck_.

"I really want to give a whole speech to you about how I think you're the coolest dude around, but I've got a _relationship_ to fix," Patrick says, eyes already trying to find Jonny's whereabouts.

"Get your man, Peeks," Sharpy gives him an encouraging smile, "but maybe, talk to her first," pointing to Tina, who's having a conversation with one of the hired bartenders and looking like _she's actually enjoying it._

Patrick is still limping a little bit when he catches up to her. Tina lights up when she sees Patrick approaching, whilst Patrick is having a silent prayer of "please don't be in love with mes” in his head.

"Hey, Pat. Ready to go home?" her eyebrows quirked up, dancing her fingertips on Patrick's arms.

Tina's smiling, she's smiling, and Patrick's the biggest dick in Chicago, the whole of America, really.

"I think I should go," Patrick says shakily, refusing to look in Tina's eyes any longer. He reckons she deserves more than that—but Patrick is a coward who can't even give her that decency, "—alone," he finishes, ultimately squeezing his eyes shut. Afraid of what's to come.

"Can you at least me in the eye while dumping me?"

Patrick looks up to her on command, turning in to his fate of being the receiving end of the incoming anger and embarrassment.

"Is it him?" Tina eyes him consciously and Patrick excruciatingly but ever so genuine nods at her. Both of them acknowledging the fact that it's Jonny… and probably will always be him.

"Okay," Tina sighs, ignoring the accompanying straw of her cocktail and downing the piña colada in one go. Patrick cringes, but Tina is pushing him away and telling him to _'go before I fucking knock you off.'_

"Will you be okay?" Patrick genuinely worries, stumbling on his feet because of Tina's shoves.

"Yes," she says firmly, a bitter smile slowly forming in her face, "I will be. It's not like I'm in love with you or anything."

It's not a reassurance of her being completely fine for the night, but it's still a relief, so he lets out a sigh. Patrick kisses her cheek before looking over at Sharpy, giving him a knowing look of 'look after Tina and make sure she's safe', for which he gets a thumbs up.

Good. Sharpy owes him that much for confusing the fuck out of him.

—

It feels like fucking Jonny over again when Patrick gets into his apartment in ease. But it's the least of Patrick's worries when he hears cries coming from Jonny's bedroom. His chest is starting to hurt because of the sound—he never meant for it to be like this. God knows this is not how he planned things to be. Hurting Jonny was never at the top of his list, have never been there in the first place.

Jonny's bedroom door is slightly opened, and Patrick takes advantage before Jonny decides to lock it up. His entrance to the room makes an obvious noise, and he sees Jonny quickly sitting up from where he's slumped on the bed.

Jonny looks alarmed, _and hurt, and betrayed, and scared._ Patrick craves to comfort them all away.

"What are you doing here?" the rasp in Jonny's voice breaks Patrick's heart even more. He can only guess how long it's been since Jonny started crying.  
"Get the fuck out of my apartment," Jonny spats, voice much clearer this time. He's trying to be strong in front of Patrick, take back the show of vulnerability and act tough like it's not affecting him. It surprises Patrick how much he actually knows Jonny—just by the look on his face, the slight tremble of his mouth and bounce of his knee on the bed. And yet, _he doubted Jonny's loyalty. He should've known better._

Patrick fucks up, and he knows it now, and there's nothing more he wants to do than make it all alright.

"I'm sorry, Jon," he steps in closer to Jonny's bed, wanting to wrap the broken boy in his arms. Do anything for Jonny to take him back again. To share that space with him again.

"It was all me. I just. I was scared, okay?" he lets out frustratingly, trying to find the right words to say. "I thought I was just a casual fuck to you and you're sleeping with other people and it was too much and I couldn't take it. I wanted to get even, and I'm sorry."

Jonny bawls at his good for nothing excuse. Patrick's realised how dumb that logic is, he could've just talked—“You could've just talked to me," Jonny steals the words out of his mouth.

"You're right. I should've but Sharpy—"

"Sharpy? Fucking Sharpy?!" Jonny yells, and he looks angry now, nostrils flared and breathing heavily through his mouth. "Fuck you!"

"I didn't know Sharpy, stupid fucking Sharpy, was a fucking part of our relationship!"

 _Relationship._ Fuck, they were indeed in a relationship and Patrick had let his insecurities ruined their progress. He can't even blame it entirely on Sharpy, he means well. Patrick should've judged the situation himself, based on facts and not the miscommunication of others.

"I know that now. Let me fix it, please," Patrick begs, he's not getting out of this room without fixing this. _He can't lose Jonny._

"I'm going to fucking sleep, and if you're really sorry, you're gonna let me be," Jonny spats, wrapping the covers over his head.

The room is quiet _aside from Jonny's silent cries,_ and Patrick's lost at what to do next. He meant it when he said he's not leaving this room without making up with Jonny first. But he agrees, Jonny needs a much-needed rest, needlessly exhausted from Patrick's recklessness. And so, Patrick lets him be, just for tonight.

—

Patrick's woken up to a fair amount of weight over him, it's comfortable, actually, and warm. He finds Jonny next to him, a hint of red still looming in his eyes.

"Hey," Jonny croaks. "You slept on the floor."

"Does your back hurt?" Jonny asks, and Patrick is heavily confused. Jonny is blinking tears, _again,_ and he looks guilty and worried. Like he did something wrong.

"Jonny…" he trails off, not knowing what to fucking say.

"I'm sorry I made you sleep on the floor," Jonny whispers, and _oh no, fuck no,_ Patrick has had enough of himself continually wounding Jonny up.

Patrick grabs Jonny by the shoulders and sits them up, Jonny latches on to him, crying in his shoulders as Patrick shushes him. He curls his hand around Jonny's nape and rubs it gently, kissing every part of Jonny he can reach.

"Baby, no," Patrick coaxes, "I'm the asshole."

"Yes, you are," Jonny agrees with him, making Patrick chuckle and press a firm kiss on his cheek again. "But you're sorry. You didn't mean it, and I gave you a hard time," Jonny sniffs, leaving a kiss on Patrick's neck.

"Not really." Patrick says as he looks at the clock on Jonny's nightstand, "it's only been two hours."

He earns a light punch on his shoulders, and they're laughing, sniffing along the way. They must look like a couple of fools right now, but Patrick doesn't care, because Jonny's in his arms again.

Patrick pulls Jonny's face away and grabs the tissue on the nightstand, wiping the tears away.

"This. It will never happen again. I will talk to you and only you. I will only believe you. Okay? You have my word." Patrick promises, rubbing the pad of his thumbs on Jonny's cheekbones. He can't help dropping a kiss there, too.

"Pat," Jonny starts talking and it's Patrick's time to listen to him. "You also have my word. You're the only one. I like what we have, Pat. It's one of the best things that's e-ever happened to me," Jonny hiccups, "don't do that again? Okay? I don't think I can handle seeing you with someone else again."

"Promise."

Jonny surges forward to meet him in a kiss. It starts out gentle and on rhythm, just the two of them letting their defenceless hearts do the act, doing nothing more than sucking each other's lips slowly.

Patrick lets it happen for a couple more minutes till he raises Jonny up by the arm and pushes him on the bed. _His back does hurt from sleeping on the floor after all. Patrick wants the bed, dammit._

Jonny raises an eyebrow, “Yeah?" yanking Patrick by the collar of his polo shirt, kissing him again then slowly sneaking his hands to cup Patrick's growing cock.

Patrick gasps in disbelief. He wasn't even aware he's starting to get hard already, _so focused on his feelings like a crybaby._ So, heart and love actually do matter more— _Jesus, Patrick's really growing up._

"I wanna grow old with you so bad," he confesses out loud. Jonny's it for him. He really is.

"That would require a lot of fucking me, baby."

"So why don't we start now?"

They've removed all of their clothing in a scary amount of time. The only thing left is Jonny's briefs because "I wanna try something, Jon," and Jonny rolled his eyes at that, but obliges him. Why? Because Pat's not alone in this. Jon wants to grow old with him, too. _Fuck yes._

Patrick lays Jonny on his back, both of their cocks hard and so fucking ready to go, it's almost embarrassing to think about. He tugs Jonny's briefs off to the side, they've watched a video of a girl getting fucked with her panties still on one night, and it has since burned in their memories. Finding it so fucking hot, messy, desperate, dirty, impatient—just what Jonny and Patrick are.

Patrick can't even conceal the gasp that comes out of his mouth. Jonny….Jonny is loose—or looser than usual that is. And a little wet. Patrick's smart (and knowledgeable) enough to know that Jonny's not fucking with someone else. So? _Fuck._ Which means….

"I may or may not have fucked myself on a dildo earlier and plugged myself up," Jonny answers the unspoken question in his head.

"Fuck," It's so hot, the images of Jonny on his back, fucking a dildo in and out of him, he must've used a lot of lube. God, it must've sounded so good and _wet,_ tuning up the insistent hammering of the fake cock in Jonny's hole. Or was Jonny riding the dildo? Bouncing up and down, putting those strong thighs to good use. Maybe he imagined it was Pat underneath him, squirming and totally at Jonny's mercy, just letting Jonny do the dirty work.

Jonny's amazing, he's a fucking champ, and in the middle of thinking about Jonny doing the nastiest things is not how he planned to confess his love, but who can really blame Patrick? "You're so amazing. I love you."

"Yeah?" Jonny's looking at him so smugly. And if the events of this night didn't happen, Patrick would've totally thumped him in the head. But not now, seeing Jonny's shit-eating grin means victory, because —finally—Jonny knows, and believes him. That he's the one Patrick loves so so so much. That he has no reason to cry about winning or losing Patrick over because Patrick is all his.

"I love you too, so much," Jonny speaks again. He's so...beautiful. Patrick's so gone for him.

Patrick tugs Jonny's briefs off all the way and traces his puffy hole, it's so fucking open, it's probably have been at least three hours since Jonny took out the plug, but God, can Patrick still feel the looseness of him. He mans out and pushes two of his fingers past the sloppy rim, and it takes both of them in surprise. Jonny's nuzzling Patrick's neck with his face, drawing in his breath because he's taking Patrick's fingers so well.

"Don't do that," Patrick scolds, he half-heartedly tilts away from Jonny, so he can see the look on Jonny's face because this kind of beauty should never be hidden. "Let me see you."

_"Let me hear you, Jonny."_

Jonny yelps, staggering as Patrick starts working his fingers inside him, the drag of Patrick's smooth digits against his walls stirring desires of _something more._ Something bigger, something steadier and harder—which can be found mounted on the skin between Patrick's legs.

"Pat, Pat, please," Jonny begs, Patrick wants to give him what he wants, it could be so hot—it will be so hot, but Jonny's ridiculous.

"There's no way," Patrick protests, sliding in another finger and curls the trio upwards, stroking the rounded bundle of nerves gently, applying the littlest bit of pressure in every tap, just enough to not make Jonny completely fall apart. Jonny sits up on his elbows, watching Patrick behind heavy eyes, hips lazily in motion, meeting the rhythm of Patrick's fingers fucking languidly into his hole.

Patrick could get off Jonny like this, just watching him slowly losing himself, dropping from the place where he exists—just swimming in a sea of steady, _steady_ unfaltering pleasure. Slow but never-ending and it's heaven and after-life, and it's not making any sense but—fuck—Patrick wants to give Jonny that. Intends to give him fucking everything.

Patrick takes his turn to make a home in Jonny's neck, soaking in the damp of his skin. Patrick breathes him in, leaving open-mouthed kisses to the most sensitive part of Jonny's neck. Jonny lets out a gasp as Patrick sinks his teeth in the delicate skin the moment he added a fourth finger in Jonny's hole.

Patrick can feel the resistance this time around, Jonny wants him in, but he's getting so stretched. Where he is the most open can only expand so much without more added wetness.

Patrick harshly draws his fingers out of the swollen hole, consoling Jonny's whine at the loss with the vigorous taps of his flattened hand on Jonny's puffy rim.

_He had learnt that from a porn video, too. Patrick's hopeless, really._

Patrick keeps slapping Jonny's sensitive rim until he successfully retrieves the lube out of the drawers of Jonny's bedside table. Immediately stopping the movement of his hand and pouring the lube onto his palm, larding his cock generously.

"No condom?" Jonny's eyes' wonder, the back of his head easing its way onto the pillow, arms relaxed and uncurled.

Patrick's suddenly rooted in the middle of stroking his cock— _shit, he...he completely forgot._ He's just as amateur as it gets, like a reckless teenager lost in love and the sight of his lover….lost in the sight of Jonny—legs wide open and just as eager to take Patrick.

"I—I could," he stutters, quickly wiping his sticky hand in the sheets, scuttering to get the condoms from the same drawer. They always wear a condom when they fuck. It's a tradition and an instinct, Patrick thinks, safe sex is the very first thing his mum warned him about when she sent him off to Chicago.

But fuck, Jonny has never looked more gorgeous than this night, tears and snot included. Forgetting is the excitement of knowing _they're in love; that they've finally figured it out._

Patrick's grasping the box of condoms when a gentle arm snakes around his waist. He glances down at Jonny, looking like he's drunk on euphoria as ever.

"Don't use one," Jonny says slowly, "I mean—"Jonny adds quickly, "—only if it's okay with you."

_The condom's been quickly thrown on the ground._

"Fuck you," Patrick meaninglessly whispers into Jonny's ear, fitting himself between the distance of Jonny's smooth, _smooth_ legs. People often make fun of him for it—being hairless and lacking chest hairs, to which is not entirely true. Jonny has all of those things, just chooses to wax them off. He claims it makes him look even more golden in the summer—he's not wrong.

"You'll be the death of me," he nips at Jonny's shoulder blades, earning soft whines from the boy underneath.

"Just fuck me, please," Jonny begs again. Rutting his cornered dick between their bodies against Pat's stomach, trying to obtain every bit of pleasure he can get.

"Since you asked so nicely," Patrick obliges, voice husky even though he didn't suck any dick tonight, fucking hell what Jonny is doing to him.

Patrick lines his cock to the brim of Jonny's hole—pink and winking, moving Jonny's thighs up against his chest so he can get a better view of it. So he's able to fully visualise how much Jonny wants him, how much Jonny's body craves for his fat cock.

Jonny continues to make noises of impatience and wants where Patrick is hovering over him, looking at him with those intense dark eyes, lines of sweat threatening to fall from where his forehead and hairline meet.

"Please, Pat, Please," Jonny squirms, and Jonny can keep up this show of weakness, but Patrick knows how strong Jonny is, he can have what he wants in a heartbeat if he works for it. Instead, he's making Patrick's heart melt by the way he is openly _submitting_ himself to Patrick, letting Patrick take over, giving him permission to lead and the promise that Jonny would follow him.

_And that fucking trust. Fuck, that trust—it’s going to kill him someday._

Patrick pushes past the tight, _fucking hell why does it still feel tight around his cock,_ entrance. Pat searches Jonny's face for any kind of discomfort, but Jonny responds with moans of relief, little gasps of pleasure escaping those sinful lips along the way.

Patrick groans at the tight heat around the head of his cock, he could just come right there and then, listen to the sounds of Jonny's breath, look at the sight of his everything, feel the fluttering and the twitch of his every skin. The other part of Patrick wants to shove his cock all the way in, pound mercilessly and leave Jonny screaming due to an onslaught of pleasure from every punch on his prostate. Leave Jonny dry, yet wanting more.

Patrick knows Jonny wouldn't mind either scenario happening tonight. But Patrick loves him so much and thinks he deserves everything, so he goes for the slow drag of his cock up against Jonny's walls, not stopping until the swell of Jonny's ass prevents Patrick from reaching places that would require more prep and time.

Patrick lets out a deep groan, Jonny's body feels like a furnace, wrapped around Jonny—igniting his deepest desires. Jonny's mouth's agape, eyes lazily blinking but never swaying his look away from Patrick. Jonny's unmoving, and he always gets like this during sex unless he's told otherwise, still and relaxed, and _taking Patrick so well._

"Pat, move, please," Jonny cups Patrick's cheek with his free hand, caressing the barely-there stubble in Patrick's jaw, tugging Patrick down and whimpering when Patrick's cock goes deeper into him.

"Hey," Patrick teases him, tilting his head slightly to kiss the tips of Jonny's fingers. Jonny mewls and sluggishly leans forward to graze his lips under the prickly hairs of Patrick's cheek, his hot breath flaming up Patrick even more. Jonny ultimately leaves a firm kiss on his jaw, and Patrick just has to give him what he wants after that.

Patrick moves his hips in a circling motion, letting Jonny feel the whole of him. "Fuck," Jonny clutches his shoulders, digging his fingernails on Patrick's milky skin.

"I know, baby," Patrick soothes, grasping Jonny's legs and wrapping them around his waist, kneading Jonny's soft thighs to lull his overwhelmed senses.

Patrick starts fucking into him, thrusts unhurried and firm, knocking Jonny's breath every time he slams in. Jonny weeps at his every move, speaking nonsense, streams of "Fuck, I'm dying, Pat, don't fucking stop, you're so close to killing me." Jonny's going insane, and he's gripping Patrick's shoulders harsher and harsher by the second. It seems like Jonny wants to take Patrick with him to death, he finds himself not minding too much.

 _What the fuck,_ Patrick's lost now, too. He ignores Jonny's sounds of protest when he springs his body up to look at where his cock repeatedly irrupts Jonny's hole. Jonny's squeezing him so well, the puckered edge following the in and out of his cock—stifling his every breath; it's impossible as shit but Jonny's hole is compressing his big cock so much, and it's preventing blood flow, and he wants to _explode._ Jonny's right, they're going to die tonight.

_Patrick's just as insane as Jonny is, and he'd gladly follow him to a permanent state of madness._

"Fuck Jonny, you're so tight, baby. You're suffocating me, I wanna fuck you all the time," Jonny—honest to God—sobs at his words, eyelashes wet from tears, he's quivering on Patrick's cock. It's too much, and Patrick wants more, "Such a good hole, Jon, gripping me so well," and even Patrick shocks himself at his muttering. He's never been this vocal before, and he doesn't want to stop now.

Patrick stands on his knees and hoists up Jonny's hips with him. Jonny screams, not anticipating the action, eyes wider than ever. This position must be uncomfortable for him, but Patrick actually looks at Jonny—past the sweat and the red of his abandoned cock, the tears and the fewest of saliva running down his chin—and Patrick sees a man _loving_ him, _giving_ in and _liking_ what Patrick is doing to him.

So Patrick continues his vigorous assault on Jonny's hole, letting the heat consume them. He latches on to Jonny's thighs, and he intends to leave a mark so he wraps as much meat as he can around his hands. Patrick knows the strong muscles can endure the pain, and so he thrashes Jonny's body on his cock, a mantra of "yes yes yes" encouraging him. Jonny flailing meanly on his back, Patrick relentless, until he's nothing but a rush of "uhs" and "I'm comings" whilst speared by Patrick's dick.

Patrick watches Jonny's cock convulse and spill hot streaks of cum on his chest, some of it barely catching his jaw and even fewer on Jonny's rosy cheeks. Jonny clenches deliciously on his cock for a hot minute, immediately relaxing and completely retiring to a pool of flesh and bones.

"Yeah, Pat. Use me, Pat. Use my hole, baby. It's yours—all fucking yours," Jonny drools out with half-opened eyes, looking like sin itself, covered in its crimes.

He growls as he feels Jonny helping him cum by clenching his sensitive hole on his cock again, even though Jonny's exhausted as he can be—Patrick's insides are roaring desires and wants to make Jonny his, in every physical sense. The pit of Patrick's stomach is burning up and his knees starting to get weak as he continues to messily fuck into Jonny; enchanted by what have they become, what they have done and what's more to come.

Patrick comes inside, cum buried deep in Jonny. Jonny latches on to him as he falls apart, legs tightening around his waist and taking Patrick in his equally weak arms. Comforting Patrick through his orgasm by stroking Patrick's back up and down, whilst also whimpering quietly at the overwhelming fullness and pleasure Patrick is sure he is feeling.

"Fuck, baby," Patrick continues to rut into him, the reckless in and out of his cock caused Jonny to leak around him. And if Patrick were a stronger man—he would fuck Jonny again just for that. Jonny is so wet around him, he reaches to feel the rim, and he hasn't even pulled out yet, but Jonny's already dripping, and it's too much—so he slowly withdraws his softened cock out of the flaming hole.

More of his cum comes out from it, and Patrick can't help but smear it with his hand all over Jonny's rim and the skin around it. Jonny gasps and squirms rightfully in the bed, and Patrick stops the onslaught pressure he's giving to the tired-out man.

Patrick kisses Jonny deep and soft before he makes his way to the bathroom—Jonny catching his wrists and begging him to "don't leave me, Pat. Please," eyes even watering a little bit. _Dramatic bitch._

Jonny is still pouting by the time he walks back into the room with a damp cloth, Patrick smirks and climbs into the bed, straddling Jonny's naked hips. A kiss follows every wipe of the cloth on Jonny's skin, Jonny's lips loosening up every time, until he's all but a giggling mess under Patrick, "Stop, it tickles," Jonny laughs, pushing him away without will.

"You love it," Patrick fights back knowingly, cleaning the rest of Jonny's chest.

Jonny quiets up, and Patrick meets his smouldering gaze, lips curled up in a smile, reaching up to cup Patrick's cheeks, "I love you."

Patrick sees honesty as he puts his hands above Jonny's. The rise and down of his chest matching Jonny's breathing. Jonny...Jonny is his. There's no other explanation. No doubt about it this time around. All Patrick can see now are bright spots that form a sure thing, and it's right in front of him—Jonny, hockey with Jonny, sex with Jonny, mornings with Jonny, fights with Jonny, winning with Jonny, _more and more winnings_ with Jonny, Jonny, Jonny, Jonny.

Patrick loves Jonny so much, and he bends down to tell him exactly that.

**Author's Note:**

> first time writing smut and oooh boyy: irl is not the way to go with this stuff. i don't think people actually think about fires this much. also, help. i can't stop listening to the goddamn song now


End file.
